If Middle School was my dark age than High School was my Renaissance. At North Kingstown High, I learned the value of community, the reality of growing up, and the perfectly okay-ness of being myself. It wasn’t until senior year that I reaped the rewards of my investigative approach to secondary school. My underclassman years were solely the leg work, the figuring things out, the reconstructing views of the world so that by the time I was a senior I could see. The eye opening I experienced took place in a little yoga studio on Weaver road, not more that three minutes from my high school.
Originally the thought was that bending and twisting might be physically liberating, what I didn’t realize is that it would also free my mind. I made a pilgrimage to Grace Yoga every Sunday craving the time spent with friends in the warm, sun-lit studio.The Grace Yoga Community taught me by example the art of compassion. I learned to breathe and to listen. The women who practice there are empowering, successful in their lives because of their self-care. Alongside them I volunteered to clean up the Grace garden, or tidy up the yoga mats on the shelves, joyfully reciprocating the gift of giving.
Grace Yoga helped me to see the repercussions of my actions in more than just quantitative terms. Where my freshman year of high school I was focused intently on my grades, as a senior I was able to swallow the significance of the course as more than an evaluation. My teachers began to appreciate me as a learner instead of a grade grubber and I began to value myself as such. Instead of going into a period of self loathing over a B, I would try to use it as a gage of my understanding and to fill in where I may have missed some things. There was still a part of me that would hunger for the tall slanted and crossed triangle that signified success, but my perspective of the world had grown to a point where an A didn’t mean as much as it used to.
What I learned meant more, was the ability to invest in where I was and those who surrounded me. In High School I was loved for my smile. Can you imagine that? I would walk into the guidance office with a few questions and chat up Mrs. Budlong, a quiet and often overlooked secretary. I made it a habit to stop in and see Mrs. Budlong, thanking her for my report cards (of which she is responsible for mailing to all 1,600 students at NKHS), and wishing her happy days. When it came time to apply to scholarships my senior year, It was Mrs. Budlong who took it upon herself to weed out all of the scholarships that were befitting of me. If academic success means getting an A, than success in general is the result of getting what you give.
My proactive approach to education left me with a greater passion for the core classes I had to take because I becameinvested and connected to the people who were instructing them. By the end of my senior year I can say confidently, I knew most of the teachers at North Kingstown High, including the ones I had never had in class. I may not have ended up valedictorian or secured a coveted spot in the Ivy League school I was hoping to get into, but I received awards that meant more to me than a perfect GPA ever could. Whether it was being voted by my class as the "friendliest" and most "dependable"or learning I had been nominated by my teachers for the Civic Leadership award given out at the statehouse, I was in awe of being rewarded for what I personally find valuable.
High school was at times, an ironic place for me as well. After missing National Honor Society by 0.04 points for three consecutive years, I made it in my senior year. For those first three years I would cry with frustration. I didn't understand how all of my hard work was not being rewarded with membership into the cult of smart people at my school.However, by the time I was accepted, I didn't need a little certificate and accolade to feel like a valuable member of my high school community. I had accomplished more as a human being and academic than I could have ever hoped for, and I didn't need a little pin to tell me that.
Professor Fogleman
Renaissance
If Middle School was my dark age than High School was my Renaissance. At North Kingstown High, I learned the value of community, the reality of growing up, and the perfectly okay-ness of being myself. It wasn’t until senior year that I reaped the rewards of my investigative approach to secondary school. My underclassman years were solely the leg work, the figuring things out, the reconstructing views of the world so that by the time I was a senior I could see. The eye opening I experienced took place in a little yoga studio on Weaver road, not more that three minutes from my high school.
Originally the thought was that bending and twisting might be physically liberating, what I didn’t realize is that it would also free my mind. I made a pilgrimage to Grace Yoga every Sunday craving the time spent with friends in the warm, sun-lit studio.The Grace Yoga Community taught me by example the art of compassion. I learned to breathe and to listen. The women who practice there are empowering, successful in their lives because of their self-care. Alongside them I volunteered to clean up the Grace garden, or tidy up the yoga mats on the shelves, joyfully reciprocating the gift of giving.
Grace Yoga helped me to see the repercussions of my actions in more than just quantitative terms. Where my freshman year of high school I was focused intently on my grades, as a senior I was able to swallow the significance of the course as more than an evaluation. My teachers began to appreciate me as a learner instead of a grade grubber and I began to value myself as such. Instead of going into a period of self loathing over a B, I would try to use it as a gage of my understanding and to fill in where I may have missed some things. There was still a part of me that would hunger for the tall slanted and crossed triangle that signified success, but my perspective of the world had grown to a point where an A didn’t mean as much as it used to.
What I learned meant more, was the ability to invest in where I was and those who surrounded me. In High School I was loved for my smile. Can you imagine that? I would walk into the guidance office with a few questions and chat up Mrs. Budlong, a quiet and often overlooked secretary. I made it a habit to stop in and see Mrs. Budlong, thanking her for my report cards (of which she is responsible for mailing to all 1,600 students at NKHS), and wishing her happy days. When it came time to apply to scholarships my senior year, It was Mrs. Budlong who took it upon herself to weed out all of the scholarships that were befitting of me. If academic success means getting an A, than success in general is the result of getting what you give.
My proactive approach to education left me with a greater passion for the core classes I had to take because I became invested and connected to the people who were instructing them. By the end of my senior year I can say confidently, I knew most of the teachers at North Kingstown High, including the ones I had never had in class. I may not have ended up valedictorian or secured a coveted spot in the Ivy League school I was hoping to get into, but I received awards that meant more to me than a perfect GPA ever could. Whether it was being voted by my class as the "friendliest" and most "dependable"or learning I had been nominated by my teachers for the Civic Leadership award given out at the statehouse, I was in awe of being rewarded for what I personally find valuable.
High school was at times, an ironic place for me as well. After missing National Honor Society by 0.04 points for three consecutive years, I made it in my senior year. For those first three years I would cry with frustration. I didn't understand how all of my hard work was not being rewarded with membership into the cult of smart people at my school. However, by the time I was accepted, I didn't need a little certificate and accolade to feel like a valuable member of my high school community. I had accomplished more as a human being and academic than I could have ever hoped for, and I didn't need a little pin to tell me that.